Supernatural Ficlets
by exorcistor
Summary: A collection of mini-fics and prompts. Not posted in any particular order or with any one particular pairing. From chapter 13 an on it's pretty much just porn; you have been warned.
1. The End

Word count: 138

Genre: Angst

Rating: worksafe

Note: The End!verse ficlet.

* * *

Giving up is easy, Castiel thinks. Giving up is giving in, to hope no more, to want no more. When he first met Dean Winchester, he had noticed this about the man; the lack of faith in not only God, but also his own self. He had already given up on his soul, and though Castiel had not understood why at the time, he now realizes that Dean was wise in his own way, protecting himself from the hard crash at the bottom of the fall. If you do not hope, you don't have anything to lose. Castiel likes the idea of not having anything to lose. He already lost Dean to blood and war and the soft curve of Lucifer's smile on Sam's lips. So he shrugs, picks up another bottle pills, and loses himself as well.


	2. Ugly Bastards

Word count: 300-ish

Genre: General

Rating: worksafe

Summary: Demons generally possess good-looking people, right?

* * *

"Wow, you are one ugly son of a bitch," Dean states as the demon walks into the room.

Castiel is taken aback for a moment, and turns to look at the man beside him. Is Dean able to see the true form of the demon, hiding behind the flesh of its Human host, all of a sudden? Only angels, and humans close to falling into the Pit should be able to see them, and he feels a wave of fear crash into him. Has Dean gone and done something stupid without telling him? (Again?) But then he realizes; Dean is not talking about the twisted darkness beneath the surface; he is talking about the vessel. Castiel turns back to their enemy, eyes narrowing as he regards it again. He supposes Dean is right; over the years that he has spent with the Winchesters he has learned to perceive the characteristics that make each human unique, instead of simply a mirror image of their heavenly Father. And he supposes one can say that this vessel isn't one of the more attractive ones.

He has also noticed, to his confusion, that people have a tendency to trust an attractive individual easier than someone with non-desirable features. It has something to do with symmetry and order, he believes… That might be the reason why most demons tend to chose beautiful people to possess.

This knowledge also makes Castiel wish again that Dean could be able to view him in his true form; he knows himself to be much more beautiful to Human eyes that way. Perhaps, if Dean had been able to perceive him as he really is, he would find it easier to trust Castiel, as well. That would certainly have made things easier for them both.


	3. Carwash

Word count: 200-ish

Genre: Humor

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Destiel, Impala

* * *

Sam took one look at Castiel's face as he glared at Dean when the hunter announced, after having given the Impala a once-over that she was getting a bit too muddy around the rims and needed another cleaning, and starts laughing. Castiel transferred his glare to the younger Winchester, for once absolutely certain that the mirth was a sign that he was being made fun of.

"What?" he growled, narrowing his eyes at Sam.

To Sam's credit, he only took a short moment to control himself.

"You know there's a simple solution to your problem, don't you?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

Castiel frowned. "What?" he repeated, now more curious than annoyed.

"Steal his attention back, man. Take off your coat, get yourself wet working on his car. Trust me. He won't know what hit him."

And as Castiel glanced over his shoulder to take in Dean's shocked - and quickly reddening - face as Castiel leaned over the hood of the Impala to reach up and polish the wind shield, water and foam sticking his shirt - the only article of clothing Sam had allowed him to keep on - to his body, he thinks he needs to go to the younger brother for advice more often.


	4. Pranks

Word count: 316

Genre: Humor

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Brochesters, shower

* * *

"Dean, did you use up my shampoo again?"

Sam's annoyed voice echoed through the motel room, and Dean winced at the volume; not even the loud music in his headphones could drown out the sound of his little brother shouting.

"Calm down willya!" he yelled back. "I didn't touch your pansy-ass shampoo; I don't wanna end up smelling like flowers and shit."

Sam appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and dripping wet. His eyebrows were furrowed and he glared daggers at Dean where he lay on his bed.

"My shampoo does _not _smell like flowers, Dean, as you very well know, since you used all of it!"

"Dude, seriously. I did _not _use your shampoo. Maybe you've been washing your hair in your sleep or something. Just use soap."

Sam blanched. "'Just use so—' Dean, do you have any idea how bad that stuff is for your hair? You gotta take care of it or you'll end up bald before you're forty!"

"I will not end up bald _ever._ Soap's been good enough for me since for_ever_, Sam, it's just you who are a delicate little girl with girl-hair that needs special attention, ok?"

Sam glared at him with the full force of The Bitchface until Dean shrugged and turned away, showing his brother his back and turning up the volume on his MP3 even further. After a while, he could hear Sam's stomp back into the bathroom and shut the door behind him - loudly. Dean glanced back once, making sure that the door was, indeed, properly closed, before tentatively reaching up to tangle his fingers in the hair at his temples, checking for thin or uneven patches.

Sam sniggered as he watched through the keyhole, turning and stepping back into the shower, where he proceeded to wash his hair using his (not even half-empty) bottle of shampoo.


	5. Hive

Word count: 253

Genre: Character-study

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Castiel, bees. Kinda spoiler-ish for season 7 finale.

* * *

It had taken some time, but finally, after a week of sitting outside the hive, the bees had accepted his presence and attempts at communication. And now that they finally had, Castiel couldn't find it in him to leave; the collected mind of the swarm reminded him too much of home, the thousands of humming voices and jumbled thoughts making him feel closer to his home, to his brothers and sisters, of who so many had been lost, than he had in a long, long time.

But then, he felt the thrill of electricity in what remained of his grace that meant he was being summoned, together with the familiar feel of Dean Winchester's soul reaching out to him. And as much as he wanted to forget, as much as he wanted to simply lose himself in his Father's beautiful creation, there was one thing which always had come before his own desires (or, well, before everything really), and that was Dean.

He sighed, and rose from his week-long sitting position, trying to shush the bees off of him as he prepared for the flight to Dean's side. But the little workers didn't want to let go, and kept crawling up and down his limbs as he stretched his arms over his head and cracked his shoulders. Ah, well. It wasn't like they'd weigh him down much, and he could always return them to their home after he'd told Dean, once more, that he simply did not fight anymore.

He watched the bees.


	6. Virginity

Word count: 200-ish

Genre: Humor

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Dean & Adam, sexual experimenting

* * *

"Dean, seriously, you gotta stop _doing _this!"

"Aww, Sammy c'mon! The kid's gotten a second chance at life and you wanted me to _not _help him live it to the fullest?"

"There are other ways to enjoy a second chance! What were you thinking, bringing him there?"

"I was thinking that it'd be a fucking pity for the guy to not lose his virginity now he's gotten a second chance at life, that's what I was thinking!"

"So you take him to a _brothel?_ He's _underage_, Dean!"

"Guys, I didn't really mind—"

"Shut up, Adam, I'm not talking to you right now!"

Adam sighed. When he'd been younger, he'd asked his mother from time to time if he couldn't have a sibling or two. You gotta be careful what you ask for, he knew now. Never had he imagined having two older brothers would be like having parents on the brink of getting a divorce.

"At least tell me you didn't get him to go through with it?"

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"…_DEAN_._"_

Adam did not sign up for this. Where was a bloodthirsty ghoul when you needed it?


	7. Ice cream

Word count: 63

Genre: Romance

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Wincestiel, ice cream.

* * *

Sam's favourite flavour was chocolate mint.

Dean's was vanilla cookie-dough.

And they had, after many a round of sitting in ice-cream bars and testing out every single flavour they had to offer, established that Castiel's was lemon sorbet.

You would have thought that these three flavours could never, ever go well together. But the matter of the fact was that, actually, it did.


	8. Spitting Image

Word count: 92

Genre: Character-study

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Sam, child

* * *

Sam had grown up without ever seeing any pictures of himself from before the fire - and hardy any from after the fire either; the hunter lifestyle didn't exactly give many opportunities to carry around photo albums, and what would they have had to create memories of anyway? - so he had no way of being sure, but when Dean leaned in over his nephew's crib, and proudly proclaimed that little Rickie looked "exactly like you at that age", the look on his brother's face told him the truth of his words.


	9. Team Free Derp

Word count: 242

Genre: Humor

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Destiel, Ask Team Free Derp (our cosplay ask!blog on tumblr)

* * *

"Dude, seriously, this is too freaking much!"

"You have to admit, Dean, they are at least better than those guys at the—"

"We are not talking about those guys."

Dean glared at the laptop, seriously considering throwing the damn machine out the window, and only Sam's hardcore bitchface (how did the guy know what he was thinking anyway?) stopped him. But really. This was too much.

"What is 'derp' anyway? That's not even a real word!"

"It is 'internet slang', used to refer to the act of being particularly frolicsome."

"—wh—! Cas! Man, stop _doing _that."

"My apologies."

"So you got my memo? You've had time to look up this… 'ask team free derp' blog?" Sam asked.

"Yes, and it appears it is three very dedicated fans of the prophet Chuck's work who are administrating it. The two men, who are portraying myself and Dean, are in a long term relationship, much like—"

"_Cas!_ Shut. Up," Dean hissed.

Sam barked out a laugh. "That's kind of hilarious, the fans always coming up with ways of making either one of us gay, huh Dean? At least they're not imagining you with your _brother _this time. What I don't get is why they'd think that you and _Cas… _I mean, that's just nutty, right?"

Dean had fallen silent in the chair beside him. Sam blinked. And stared. And blinked. And looked at Cas. Who avoided his gaze.

"Wait a second…"


	10. Kitten

Word count: 342

Genre: General

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Castiel, kitten. I turned this into the story of how Cas found Mr. Cuddles, the cat in our cosplay ask!blog.

* * *

He hadn't meant to bring the cat back to Dean and Sam. Really, he hadn't. But after the kitten peeked around a corner in the fifth town in a row that Castiel had visited in his search for his Father, he had to admit there was something about the animal that struck him as odd. Besides the fact that it had apparently managed to follow him across the country, the cat also seemed eerily familiar. For no reason Castiel could think of on his own, he felt like him and the cat… had a connection.

The cat mewled, a small, quivering noise, and took one careful step closer to the angel.

Castiel assessed that the animal was around six months old, hardly more than a baby, just old enough to survive without its mother. It looked like it wasn't doing a very good job of living on it's own though; its fur was shaggy and matted, and it was easy to see that it was malnourished. But it's soul shone with a bright, persistent light. He'd never seen an animal's soul emit such a brilliant light, and that was what finally drove him to pick up the kitten.

"What are you?" Castiel asked, but the cat simply tilted its head, staring back at Castiel with curious, awake eyes. Not even when Castiel reached out with his Grace to prod at the odd connection he felt could he find anything strange about the cat. His eyes narrowed. the cat mewled again.

"I'm going to take you to Sam and Dean," the angel said, fully certain that he was being understood. "I do not think that you poise a threat to anyone, as I can tell your soul is pure, but you are far too particular to be a regular feline, and it could be dangerous to let you wander the streets."

And with that, he wrapped the cat inside his coat, and spread his wings.


	11. Super Winchester Bros

Word count: 229

Genre: Humor

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Sam and Gabriel, Wii.

* * *

Out of all the ridiculous things he'd ever had to do to get Dean out of a tough situation, this beat all previous records by far.

"Great work on that witch, Sammy, and look; you levelled up!"

Sam grunted in affirmation, not even bothering to reprimand Gabriel for using that nickname, and pressed the "move forward" button; taking himself - or, the digital representation of himself (which for _some mysterious reason _had a pair of gigantic moose antlers sprouting out of it's head) - further into the forest surrounding the castle where the "final boss" had it's layer.

In one of the rooms, the game showed the tiny digital representation of Dean - which, in difference to himself, actually _was _the real elder Winchester brother, trapped in the game unless Sam could get him out - pacing back and forth in his locked tower-room. As Sam moved closer to the castle, he was allowed a short glimpse of Dean pulling on his big, puffy pink dress, the speech-bubble above his head clear and loud announcing that Gabriel was a "Son of a Bitch!1!"

Sam was inclined to agree. Whole-heartedly.

"Think you're ready for the big boss-man?" Gabriel chirped from his position to Sam's right; Sam looked over just in time to see the archangel-turned-trickster wink at him and wave his own control. On-screen, virtual-Gabriel did a strange little dance.


	12. Eurovision

Word count: 300-ish

Genre: Humor

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Destiel, Eurovision

* * *

"And you're _sure _it's gonna go for one of the artists? Why not one of the staff, wouldn't that make it easier to blend in?"

Castiel shook his head, all while his eyes flickered across the many faces of the artists and song-writers seated in the Green Room. "I'm certain the shape shifter will imitate one of the main figures of the evening; it "gets off" on attention, so to speak."

Dean nodded. "Makes sense," he agreed. "But there are like, around fifty artists here, and security's way too tight for us to be able to access any of the monitoring rooms - why the hell does this freaking thing need so much safety anyway?"

Castiel's eyes still did not drift away from the numerous artists. "It's one of the biggest festivals in Europe, Dean," he stated in a serious tone. "I am actually surprised you had not heard of it before, even if you do live in the United States."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, because that's what I like to do with my time, listen to pansy ass music and look at guys in capes dressing up as boats. I'm telling you, man, there ain't a straight dude in this arena."

Castiel finally shifted his eyes to Dean, giving him a knowing look. "Except you, naturally."

Dean blinked, realising what he'd just said, and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, of course. Except me." He didn't look at Castiel.

"There," Cas suddenly announced, pointing towards the back of the Green Room. Dean followed his gaze, eyes widening comically as he caught sight of who Castiel was referring to.

"The grandmas?" he exclaimed. "Really?"

Castiel nodded, expression serious. "The smallest one, yes."

"Damn. I liked them. They were baking. Made me think of pie."


	13. Back Problems

Word count: 200

Genre: PWP

Rating: mature

Prompt: Destiel; alleyway

* * *

As age made it more and more difficult for Dean to adapt to their life on the road the way he had when he was younger (sleeping in the impala was simply not possible anymore, when even certain types of too-thin motel mattresses made his back stiffen up and ache for days), he was more grateful than ever to be screwing Castiel.

Cas' inhuman strength easily supported Dean's weight against the brick wall of the building opposite to the bar they'd just exited, the angel clutching at Dean's ass in one hand and circling his waist with the other, keeping him steady in a position which didn't only hold him up up also accomplished the feat of angling both men's hips exactly right for Cas' cock to rub against Dean's prostate on every thrust.

Dean groaned into Cas' hair, spreading his legs even wider as the angel didn't even shift his grip to accommodate the change in their position. He might be getting older, but he wasn't too old to appreciate a good, fast fuck in an alleyway. And if the position wasn't exactly considerate of his back, who the fuck cared, right?


	14. Burned

Word count: 322

Genre: PWP

Rating: mature

Prompt: Wincestiel; in the sea

* * *

Dean was not jealous of Sam and Cas. Not in the least. Not one bit.

Nu-uh.

Because, seriously, the way their bodies were rubbing against each other, heated, damp, sweat and other fluids oozing off them, it looked totally uncomfortable and way too hot to be pleasurable.

And he never did like bathing in open waters anyway. His own choice to remain underneath their improvised sun-and-windbreak instead of chasing through the waves with his brother and their lover had nothing to do with how his freckled skin was a bit too sensitive to the sun to take well to swimming in the reflective water on a _too fucking hot what the hell_ day.

But then Sam and Cas weren't swimming anymore. Their (rather awkward-looking, because seriously, they were both grown men, not teenagers, dammit) game of chase had ended a minute or so ago, with Cas finally giving in and letting Sam get a hold of him, tug him close by the wrist and press their wet and mostly-naked bodies together, gasping into each other's skin as they looked at each other and smiled, before letting their already moist lips meet…

And Dean wasn't jealous, really, because he knew he could get that anytime he wanted, but he'd rather just wait until they were out of the sun, somewhere where no one would get sand and salt water stuck in really fucking weird and uncomfortable places. Dean knew nothing was holding him back from getting up and joining the two men making out in the exact place where the water became waist-high - high enough to hide Sam's hand from view as it sneaked lower, disappearing beneath Cas' underwear, and…

And fuck this, he needed in, his whole body (or well, one part of his body in particular), and he was soon shedding his own t-shirt and pants to wade out and join the other two, "didya miss me?", sunburn be damned.


	15. No Need To Tell Me Twice

Word count: 500

Genre: PWP

Rating: mature

Prompt: Wincestiel; Impala

* * *

Castiel had always admired Dean's ability to multi-task. Singing while cleaning guns might not have been such a big feat, and neither was eating and researching a case, but keeping his voice steady while speaking on the phone with Bobby while Cas or Sam sucked him off certainly was impressive.

But Castiel was still surprised at the extent of this talent of Dean's, as the man's had not once wavered on the steering wheel, the impala had not once slowed down or picked up speed when it wasn't supposed to, even after he had announced his lack of interest in pulling over for the night quite yet, and proceeded to talking his brother into fucking their angel in the back seat of the car while Dean continued to drive.

"Y'can do it a little harder, c'mon Sammy," Dean prompted, eyes shifting to smirk at them in the rearview mirror. Drawing a deep breath, Sam complied, pulling back further on the next pull back, pushing Castiel's knees closer to his shoulders and slamming home hard enough that the angel's head knocked against the door from the sheer force behind his trust.

Castiel was beyond the point of worrying for Dean's ability to drive and instruct Sam on how to fuck him by the time he managed to ground out a _Dean, Dean please_, blue eyes meeting green in the mirror.

"Hmm," Dean hummed, his voice darkened from arousal, and after giving Cas a smug smile, he turned his eyes back to the road. As if this was nothing to him, his brother and their lover screwing in the back seat of his car while he was driving. Just another day on the road. "What do you say, Sam, should I let you come? You can't can you, not until I tell you to, tell you to shove your cock as far into that ass as you can go, fill him up 'til he chokes on it, pump him full of your come, eh Sammy?"

Sam groaned into Castiel's shoulder, sweat dripping from his nose onto Cas' skin, tongue following to taste.

"Do it, Sam."

That was all he said, but Sam was already coming, teeth following his tongue, digging into Cas' shoulder hard, making the angel moan loudly and cling to the younger Winchester's back, nails digging in, body shaking with the need to release as well. He wanted, he needed…

"_Dean_," Cas said, voice wrecked, hands grappling for purchase on slippery skin as he tried to shove himself harder onto Sam's still-hard cock, chasing his own orgasm. Sam murmured something into his shoulder and leaned back to sneak his hand between their bodies, reaching for…

But he was interrupted by Dean slamming his foot into the brakes, the impala coming to an abrupt stop. Sam snapped his head up, eyes immediately narrowing as he tensed up, already in defence-mode.

"Dean?" he asked, voice only a little slurred, mostly alert. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Dean unbuckled his belt and turned around in his seat, grin gleaming in the light from the headlights. "Get your ass in gear; we're switching places."


	16. Goodbyes

Word count: 770

Genre: PWP, angst

Rating: mature

Prompt: Destiel; at Bobby's

* * *

He didn't know who had taught Castiel to be possessive - no seriously, Dean had no freaking idea. Yeah, sure, he got angry when he wasn't the first person Cas turned to for help (but that was different, it fucking was, because that had resulted in him to turn to fucking _Crowley_ instead, for fucks' sake), and he saw red if anyone so much as touched his car without permission, but he sure as hell never gave Cas a reason, or an example, to act like _this_.

Yet, he found himself pressed hard against the headboard of the bed, Castiel's hip and hands pressing punishingly hard into him as he growled into Dean's neck, leaving marks on his skin with stubble and teeth alike, red and angry and sure to not fade within the next few days at least. The angel's right hand clutched at Dean's shoulder, the one where there used to be a mark, his mark, removed years ago by Castiel's own touch. Now, it seemed like Cas was determined to press a new hand shaped brand into Dean's skin, he was gripping him so hard.

Dean gasped with both pain an pleasure as Cas bore his teeth into his opposite shoulder _again_, hips matching the pace of his tongue on Dean's skin. Dean would be angry at the way Cas was disregarding Dean's arousal for the sake of making his point - whatever fuck that point was - if it wasn't for how the angel's pace and angle made it entirely impossible for him to even think; all he could do was to hold on tight, fingers digging into Cas' back hard, probably leaving dented marks of their own.

"Infuriating," Castiel mumbled into Dean's neck as he finally let go of the flesh of Dean's shoulder, causing the human to gasp as the action renewed the pain of the bite, and how the fuck was he still able to use such lengthy words anyway? Dean tried to answer, to inform Cas that fuck you very much because he was the one who was in the wrong here, not Dean. But all that came out was a strangled sound somewhere along the lines of "mmphaa-_aah_…!"

"Why won't you. Listen. To. Me." Each word was punctuated by another snap of his hips, dick aligned perfectly to put pressure on Dean's prostate. He was almost mad from the onslaught of sensation, the stinging bitemarks which were now covering most of his chest and right shoulder, the painfully hard grip of Castiel's hand on his right, pressing him into the rough fabric of old motel sheets against his back, the fullness of his ass…

It was too much at once, and Dean threw his head back, unable to even process what Castiel was growling into his skin as he pushed back against the angel one last time, gasping for breath around a silent scream as he came, hard, come splattering both his own and Cas' chests and bellies, causing the angel to moan against Dean as he pushed him even harder into the mattress, body gliding easily against Dean's slickened skin, face burrowed in the hunter's shoulder, and Dean could have sworn that he could hear Cas let out a harsh sob before swearing - something else Dean suspected he'd unknowingly taught him - and coming, almost as hard as Dean had.

Afterwards, Castiel got dressed again, fast and methodically, without sparing even a moment to glance back at Dean, where he lay spent and aching on Bobby's couch.

"I'm leaving," he said, as if that wasn't obvious. As he hung the ever-crumpled tie around his neck once more, he turned around and looked at Dean, face obscured by the shadows made by the warding sigils painted on the windows, eyes gleaming in the dark, pleading.

Dean said nothing.

Castiel sighed, eyes lowering to the floor, before there was a rush of air and he was gone. Dean finally let go of the air in his own lungs, and for a moment, his stomach clenched with a completely different kind of discomfort than that of having over-exerted his muscles. He pointedly ignored the feeling, the same way he ignored the little voice in his head that sang "hypocrite, hypocrite" as he shouted at Cas for working with Crowley, for wanting to spare Dean the pain of another war, for wanting to keep safe what he cared about most…

The marks on his chest and shoulder would fade eventually, but Castiel had left a more permanent mark on Dean already a long time ago, and that was never going to stop hurting.


	17. Don't Say It

Word count: 600-ish

Genre: PWP, romance

Rating: mature

Prompt: Destiel; balcony

* * *

He'd gone out here for some privacy, no really, he had intended for this moment to be _private_, to get away from Sam's constantly questioning eyes ("Is there anything you wanna tell me, Dean?"), to try and figure this shit out, try and figure out where the fuck this was going, if it was going anywhere.

But then, Cas had never had much to spare for human customs such as privacy.

"Hello, Dean."

This time, he turned up right behind Dean, close enough that the warmth from his body were seeping into Dean's clothes where he stood, leaning on the railing to the balcony of their room on the third floor of yet another nameless motel.

Dean flinched and changed his grip on the reeling, but other than that, he did nothing to acknowledge the abrupt arrival of another person in his personal space.

"Hey Cas," he managed, and it sounded strained even to his own ears, so he couldn't even hope that the angel, ever observant, wouldn't pick up on it.

A hand sneaked up to rest at Dean's hip. Dean had to bite his lip and focus hard on the outline of the next building over in order to not lean into Castiel's touch. Distraction was the last thing he needed right now, and yet he craved it like it was necessary for his survival. Or at least his sanity.

"You are thinking very hard," Cas commented, hand still caressing Dean's hip through his clothes like it was no big deal, like it was nothing, like it belonged there. And maybe it did, maybe Cas had some kind of right to claim him, by now, because he sure as hell felt like he claimed Cas enough times already, calling him "his angel" one too many times, making Sam wonder and look at him under raised eyebrows.

"What are we to one another, Cas?" Dean managed to grind out, voice hardly more than a breath, but he knew the angel could hear him anyway.

"Whatever you want us to be, Dean," Cas answered, murmured, close enough that Dean could feel his breath on his neck. He sighed, didn't turn around, squeezed his eyes shut against the sight of Cas' hand reaching over to cover his own, as the angel stepped closer, shaping his body after Dean's; a barrier against the cold of the night.

"I haven't got a fucking clue what to call this," Dean admitted. "And Sam's itching to ask me 'bout it, that's obvious. I have no idea what to say to him if he does."

"Why don't you tell him to, ah, 'mind his own damn business'?" Castiel suggested, tone uncharacteristically playful. That alone was enough to make Dean turn around and look at his whatever they were, finally. Castiel's face was as stoic as ever, but his eyes glimmered with something - mischievousness, and before Dean had had any time to catch up, there was a mouth on his, a tongue pressing in between his lips, strong hands guiding him back around to face the night, Castiel, dropping to his knees between him and the balcony's reeling…

And, ok, maybe it was stupid to obsess over what to classify them as, because who gave shit, anyway, beside Dean's stupid overgrown little brother, and yeah Sam could definitely mind his own damn business, for all Dean cared about what he thought about Dean fucking around with an angel of the lord.


	18. Research

Word count: 900-ish

Genre: PWP, romance

Rating: mature

Prompt: Sabriel; library

* * *

Admittedly, this had started out less than consensual. Sam had been stuck - pathetically, desperately stuck - on a case, the spell needed to exorcise the particular demon they were hunting impossible to find like it had been erased from existence, and when Gabriel had popped in and claimed to be able to help, Sam hadn't even hesitated to agree to the "terms" the archangel had stated.

That the terms made him pretty damn uncomfortable with both his own sexuality and pretty much everything else as well, seemed a small price to pay at the time; the demon was bad news, and both him and Dean were fucking tired of driving through wrecked village after wrecked village on the Mexican coast.

So, Sam had puckered up - literally - and scored himself a thousand year old exorcism. And an archangel.

If anyone asked him, the following times were just as non-consensual, just as driven by necessity, as that first time, six months ago. Besides the fact that he got a hold of all the information he needed to finish a case, who cared how he came across it, right?

And it wasn't like anyone else knew that Sam had "inconveniently" forgotten the numbers to the contacts who he knew had expertise in the right area, or pointedly ignored several books which he were sure would be able to help. As long as he kept that to himself, what harm was there?

"Seriously, kiddo, it's like screwing me fucked up your brain or something," Gabriel smirked at him, from where he was seated on top of the old mahogany table in the library reading hall. No one around them paid any attention to him, despite him breaking both the rule against talking loudly and eating in the vicinity. But then again, that wasn't how things worked with Gabriel, Sam knew from experience.

He took a moment to pointedly raise an eyebrow at the lollipop Gabriel was moving around his mouth with his tongue - a pretty obscene display, actually - either way.

"Are you really supposed to have that here?" he asked.

"Like it matters," Gabriel shrugged. "It's not like I can make a bigger mess with this thing," he popped it out of his mouth with a low _slurp_ing sound, "than we're gonna make in a while anyway. Or am I wrong?"

He waggled his eyebrows and Sam tried his very best to stop his cheeks from tinting pink. He doubted he succeeded.

"Err, well, maybe, if you can help me with this translation in ancient Egyptian. None of the books I've found can explain this hieroglyph, I think it might be a dialectal difference, but I need to be sure so we don't get it wrong…"

It's all bullshit, and they both know it, but Sam can't be bothered to give a damn, not when ten minuted later he's balls-deep in Gabriel's ass, the angel making loud appreciative noises against the back of the books which he is laid out over, panting breath spreading the papers Sam were meant to be translating across the table, voice chanting Sam's name mixed with a stream of commands such as,

"C'mon Sam, give it to me big boy, fuck me like you mean it, s'that all you got, Sam, how much s'that translation really worth to ya, show me, Sam, show me you mean it, mmngh…!"

And Sam must be losing his mind, maybe screwing Gabriel did mess with his brain, because he leans in, closer, drapes himself over Gabriel's writhing back and growls,

"I don't give a damn about any, nnh, translation - _fuck_ Gabriel, _ah_ - just wanted you here, just wanted— wanted this- wanted you…"

"Shit, Sam, _Sam_," Gabriel groans, and with a few more thrusts he's coming, soiling Sam's research, papers and books scattering everywhere as his arms flail over the table, grasping for— for _something_; sanity maybe, and Sam knows exactly what that feels like, as he presses his face to Gabriel's shoulder blades and, at the feeling of the archangel shuddering and coming all around him, only holds on for another few seconds before he follows him.

Afterwards, Gabriel just picks his discarded lollipop back up from the floor, and with a snap of his fingers, the lollipop is wrapped in it's original packing, library clean and organised, Sam's note unsoiled by sweat and other… body fluids.

"The books y'need is right over there," Gabriel points out and cocks his head at on of the shelves.

Sam glances at it. "I know."

Gabriel's grins, and he leans over and nudges Sam's nose with his own, before slipping the lollipop into the breast-pocket of Sam's shirt.

"How about next time, we try to do research someplace more private, hmm?" Gabriel says, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I mind using my powers on unsuspecting humans, but I usually like to do it for something more fun than to hide what I'm doing in the public library the middle of the day."

Sam 'hmm's, pretends to consider that for a moment, and then raises an eyebrow of his own. "How about next time, we skip the research altogether?" he suggests.

Gabriel grin widens. "Sounds good to me, kiddo."


	19. India

Word count: 300-ish

Genre: PWP, romance

Rating: mature

Prompt: Destiel; India

* * *

His nose was filled with so many different scents - spices, Cas, dust, Cas, miscellaneous animals, Cas, exotic flowers and fruits, _cas cas cas_ - that he wasn't sure he was completely sober anymore. Actually, he was absolutely _certain_ he was at least halfway drunk on the scent of cinnamon and hay on Cas' skin, in Cas' hair, the flavour of curry and fresh fruit on Cas' fingers in his mouth; it was like the angel was absorbing the countries he visited or something, and Dean couldn't wait to add his own flavour and scent to the mix, because he hated it, he fucking hated it when Castiel left on his quest to find God, hated it when he came back and smelled differently, hated the unfamiliar feeling when the scent of gun oil and Dean's aftershave had faded from his skin and hair.

Dean was determined to make it stick this time, for at least a little longer, and he pressed closer, ran his hands over every available part of Cas' skin, spit into his palm before reaching down and wrapping it around Cas' hard cock, pumping it two times, three, before sinking to his knees and letting his lips follow his hand, humming happily at the onslaught of pure Cas-scent, untarnished by his travels, wholly and completely as he remembered it. Dean smiled around the thick length in his mouth; this would always be his, no matter where Castiel went to try and find his father, this would never belong to anyone else, not even to God, this would be for him alone.


	20. Untitled

Word count: 270

Genre: PWP, romance

Rating: mature

Prompt: Wincestiel; outside

* * *

Grass-burns sucked almost as much as rug-burns, Dean decided, even as he pushed against the ground harder, angled his hips up to meet Cas' thrusts, biting back a whimper (because Dean Winchester didn't fucking whimper for anything, ok) at the sight of his brother leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Castiel's neck, at the same time as his fingers worked their way inside of the angel, and the reason why Dean knew that was because he could feel Cas' body shudder as Sam brushed against his prostate, the angel's hips stuttering desperately against Dean's own, chasing his fingers as Sam drew back, and Dean actually growled in frustration.

"Dammit, _Sam_, stop distracting him, _fuck_…!"

Sam sent an apologetic look his way, before murmuring something in Castiel's ear that Dean couldn't make out over the sound of his own harsh panting. Cas' hips lost their pace again, and Dean glared at Sam, but then his brother smiled at him, even fucking _winked_, and Dean could _feel_ it when he set his pace, fingers ramming into Cas, because Cas fell right into rhythm with him, and damn if Sam didn't find the perfect pace to fuck Dean at, his little brother knowing everything about him already, teaching Cas how to do it, teaching their angel exactly how he liked it, and Dean did _not whimper_ as he wound his arms around Cas' neck, burying his hands in Sam's hair, pressing all three of them together, pulling them down into the grass with him.

Cas had better heal his fucking grass-burns later or else there'd be hell to pay.


	21. Shut Up

Word count: 663

Genre: PWP, romance, angst

Rating: mature

Prompt: Destiel; wall

* * *

Dean had always prided himself in being able to keep a level head in any situation. When it came to hunting, that resulted in him being able to not only track the evil motherfucker down and kill it, but also to joke about it, stay positive (or pretend to), showing off and badmouthing the thing - or his brother, if he was in such a mood - and when it came to sex, it resulted in him running his mouth in every which direction it felt like going, which usually was a pretty dirty one.

It made no exception when it was Castiel, angel of the lord, that he was grounding into from behind, pressing him chest-flat against the wall of the motel room, pushing his cock into Cas' ass at a pace that spoke more of desperation than determination. And so what if he was a bit desperate; he hadn't seen the angel in _weeks_, after all, what with the stupid heavenly civil war going on, and Sam being expected back from his food-run any second now. Dean's mouth, however, made no sign of speeding up, voice instead lowering to a dark murmur against Cas still clothed back.

"Fuck, yes. Cas, shit, feel so good, doesn't it? Have you been thinking about this, about me, about my cock in your ass, thinking about coming down here and doing this with me, to me? Have been fucking longing for my cock, haven't you, Cas, fucking hate it that you're away so much, fuckin' hate it…"

Dean bit back the rest of whatever he had been about to say, because hell no, he wasn't gonna let his mouth go and tell on him, tell Castiel things he didn't need to know, not now, not ever, and he groaned into Cas neck, gripping the angel's hips tighter and fucking into him faster, not really expecting an answer.

Which was why he almost lost his footing from the surprise of hearing Castiel gasp around his moans, fighting against his own stuttering breath to find his words.

"Yes, Dean, yes, wanted it, wanted you, ah, _Dean_."

Dean snapped his head up to try and catch a glimpse of Castiel's face, but he was pressing his forehead against the wall, shadows obscuring his expression.

Cas was usually pretty quiet when they had sex, or at least he didn't _talk_, beside the occasional uttering of Dean's name; he'd never gotten the hang of dirty talk. He normally didn't even remember to warn Dean before he came, a fact the hunter didn't appreciate very much when it earned him a mouthful of come when he wasn't ready for it.

But today, fuck, today his mouth was just running on automatic, it would seem, as if the past few weeks had opened a dam in him through which every little thing the angel was thinking, _feeling_, was spilling straight through Dean's ears into his gut, forcing him to jam his eyes shut as it awoke a responding flood inside him.

"Shit, Cas, me too, wanted you, needed you here, _dammit I needed you so bad_," and he's coming, he's fucking coming, his whole body tensing up and legs almost giving out as he presses Cas hard against the wall, covering him, filling him, being filled with a storm of emotions he really thought he had better control over, being filled with Cas, in return.

And Cas is gasping against him, the dam having emptied until the only thing left in him was a string of wrung-out sounding gasps of "Dean, Dean, Dean," until he shivered and froze as well, pinned between Dean and the wall, hands reaching down to cover Dean's on his hips, coming untouched.

It took them nearly ten minutes to gather themselves, pull their clothes back into place, and Dean still couldn't look Castiel in the eye as he said "You better win this fucking war," to which Cas answered "I intend to". And nothing else needed saying.


	22. Celebratory

Word count: 900-ish

Genre: PWP, romance

Rating: mature

Prompt: Wincestiel; kitchen

* * *

In the end, it had been Dean who suggested they settled down and got what he called a "home base". Sam rolled his eyes and claimed Dean was just too proud to admit he was getting too old for stringy motel beds. Cas silently agreed that it was long overdue that they stopped spending every day in a car travelling from one place to another. If they needed to get somewhere far away from their "home base", Cas could just relocate them for the day. Simple as that.

Of course, with Dean's dislike for flying, even when flying too fast for him to even register that it was happening, that meant that upon buying their house, Dean mostly retired from hunting all together. Not that he didn't still help out on cases, but he helped out in the same way Bobby had used to help out, gathering information and checking facts, taking calls and lying to the police. The Winchester library held an impressive collection of lore books and old hunter journals, as well as notes that they had collected themselves.

In between hunts, they still had to eat and stay warm, and seeing as staying in once place made it pretty easy for people to find you when you'd pulled one credit card fraud too many, and so Dean ended up getting a job at the local garage, taking shifts only when he was sure Sam and Cas wouldn't need backup on a case.

So when Sam called him first thing in the morning to tell him they were all but wrapped up, probably returning home sometime that afternoon, Dean had proceeded to call and hear if there was anything for him to do at work, gotten the happy confirmation that yes, they actually could do with his help, could he come by around nine? and proceeded into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee before leaving. He was just about to sit down at the table and pick up the first of the papers in the massive pile of their numerous subscriptions - gotta keep up with all of America's hauntings after all - when a rush of wind knocked the paper from his hand and scattered the rest of them across the kitchen floor.

Sam and Cas were standing at the far side of the table, hands and arms and legs and _tongues_ completely tangled, until Sam gasped and pulled back, casting a quick look around them, spotting Dean as he sat, dumbstruck, with his coffee forgotten in front of him, staring at the two of them.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, blinking.

"Cas, dammit, warn a guy before doing that, would ya?" Sam grumbled, moving away from Castiel, whose hair was mussed where Sam's fingers had just been digging into his scalp, lips red and swollen from kissing. Cas, on the other hand, didn't let go of the hard grip he had Sam's collar in.

"My apologies, Sam, I thought it'd be more satisfactory to include Dean in our celebrations. More fair as well, seeing as his intell on this case was more than helpful to us."

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. Intell, huh? More like he'd done all the fucking work - he hated doing research and they all knew it - and they'd gotten to play the heroes, save the day, get the girl. Or each other, more like, by the looks of it.

"So, was there anything else you needed help with…?" he prompted, eyes raking up and down both their bodies, taking in the state of their clothes - messy - and faces - flushed, directing a pointed look at their mid sections. Castiel smiled as Dean, removing his hand from Sam's shirt to extend it towards Dean.

"I didn't think it fair, Dean, to celebrate the success of a case without one of the vital actors there to take part," he explained, voice light, as if he saw absolutely nothing odd about popping in for a fuck in the middle of a kitchen, in the middle of the morning, to disturb a guy's breakfast, when two seconds ago, he'd been well across the country, making out with the guy's brother.

Then again, it wasn't like it was the first time.

"Damn straight it's not fair," Dean growled, getting up from his seat and striding over to his brother and his angel, pushing himself into the space between them, grinding himself back against Sam's clothed cock as he claimed Cas' lips with his own. "Just, uh, I gotta be at work in two hours."

"We'll make sure you're there on time," Sam promised, murmuring into the space behind Dean's ear, his tongue darting out to lick against the shell of it, making Dean humm contentedly into Cas' mouth.

"Also, no one's fucking me, I still gotta be able to sit and stand properly if I'm going out in public," Dean added, as Cas reached down to undo his belt buckle and fly with deft fingers.

"Don't worry, Dean," the angel said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, before sinking down to his knees on the kitchen floor. "I can always heal you afterwards if there's any remaining discomfort."


	23. Hey doc

Word count: 360-ish

Genre: AU

Rating: not quite worksafe

Prompt: Destiel- Doctor!Cas and Always-getting-minor-injuries!Dean

* * *

"…Doctor Novak?"

Rachel's voice snapped Castiel out of his thoughts, and he looked up from his notes to meet the distraught gaze of his assistant.

"What is it, miss Castle?"

"Well… You remember asking me to let you know if that man - Mr. Winchester? - came by again?"

"I did."

"He's… here again."

Castiel leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Thank you, Rachel. You may leave now if you wish. I won't be requiring your services anymore tonight."

He ignored her disapproving look - it wasn't as if she dared to voice her complaints anyway when it was his clinic she worked at - and a moment later, she was gone.

It took several more minutes before Dean swung the door open and stepped inside, and by that time, Castiel was so hard in his pants that he had difficulties standing up to greet him. He raised an eyebrow at Dean, whose foolish expression (most likely a leftover from the show he'd put on to get Rachel to not-believe that was indeed in distress and needed to see Dr. Novak immediately) turned into a mischievous grin.

"Hi doc," he said. "I'm real sorry to bother you, but I cut my hand at work, and I was wondering if you could take a look at it before I head home? I don't wanna risk it getting infected or anythin'. Oh and by the way, your secretary told me to tell you that she'd lock the front door on her way out. She just left."

Castiel only just managed to keep his face level as he reached up to tug his coat off of his shoulders.

"Mr. Winchester, I must say, you are without doubt the most accident-prone individual I've ever encountered in my entire career."

Dean shrugged. "I'm just a bit clumsy, doc. Good thing I've got you here to take of me, huh?"

Castiel shuddered at the look from those green eyes. Clearing his throat, he motioned to the patient's bunk. "Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Winchester, and let me take a look at that hand."

"Sure. Wouldn't want to end up not bein' able to use it later, right?"


	24. Monty Python

Word count: 400-ish

Genre: AU

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Destiel, highschool AU

* * *

"What is the velocity of an unladen swallow?"

Castiel looked up from his notes, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on Dean's expectant expression.

"Pardon?"

"What is the velocity of an unladen swallow?"

Castiel's frown deepened and returned his attention to his notes, now flipping through his neatly organized equations and calculations at a pace which made Dean suspect he knew them well enough by heart to not even need to really look at them. "What chapter are you at? I don't recognise that from any of our books."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You've read all of our books already?"

Castiel nodded, eyes still cast downwards. "Naturally."

Dean only just managed to keep his mouth from falling open. Shaking his head, he sighed. "I should have expected it. You're the biggest nerd I've ever encountered, Sam included. And that's sayin' something."

Castiel cast a quick glance at Dean, eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you shouldn't disregards other people's wish to learn, when you own disability to respect the classroom rules which has caused both our current situations."

Dean shrugged. "Can't say I'm too sad about the current situation myself." He only just managed to not wink, reminding himself that Castiel was a socially awkward person/being who probably wouldn't get what he was trying to say.

Speaking of not getting it…

"It's a line from a movie, by the way."

"What is?" Castiel didn't look up from his notes.

"The velocity of an unladen swallow. It's not from our books, it's Monty Python."

Castiel's page-flipping came to a halt. Blue eyes turned from maths notes to regard Dean, sending that now-familiar jolt of electricity down Dean's spine. "What is Monty Python?"

Dean hid a grin. Hook, line and sinker.

"Oh hell no," he exclaimed, making sure to sound appropriately aghast. "That's just not right. You can't go through life and not experience the genius of Monty Python." At seeing Castiel's quizzical expression turn sceptical, Dean pursed his lips. he was immediately rewarded when Castiel's eyes flickered down to Dean's mouth, the shadow below his adam's apple moving subtle as he swallowed.

"I'm serious man. It's about time you get some _real _education. Come on!" He motioned towards the living room.

Castiel looked down at his notes. "Dean, I'm supposed to help you study…"

"Cas, you do want to know that the velocity of an unladen swallow is, right?"

Castiel hesitated, then nodded.

Dean couldn't help grinning openly this time.


	25. Unitled

Word count: less than 100

Genre: AU

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: SPN/Brothers Lionheart. Sam and Dean/Jonathan and Skorpan, but just ehhh gen, no pairing?

* * *

"Dean, stop whining. Where are you gonna find a pair of jeans in Nangijala? Just put them on!"

"Dude, seriously, I don't care if it's inappropriate for the afterlife's 'fashion code' or whatever; I am _not fighting Tengil in tights_. I'd rather jump all over again."

"Well, don't expect me to follow you into death because your sensitive masculinity can't take wearing form fitted pants."

"Aw, Sammy, you won't jump if I jump?"

"Not a chance."


	26. Untitled 2

Word count: 200-ish

Genre: humour

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: angel!dean and human!cas

* * *

"Wait wait, wait. You're a _virgin_? _Really_?" Dean raised an eyebrow, looking Castiel up and down, causing the man to flush at how closely he was being studied. "Why?"

Castiel coughed. "It's— It's not that I haven't had the occasion. It's a matter of choice."

"A _bad _choice," Dean commented. "Seriously, that was the _first _thing I did after Michael let me on the ride. And it was awesome. I can't believe you've been living down here your _whole life_ and willingly passed it up the entire time!"

Castiel glared at the angel. "Just because you are about the worst representative of any virtue at all, that doesn't mean we all disregard their value."

"Aw man, what's the point of being virtuous in this life when you're gonna have to spend your entire afterlife without a choice in the matter? Better live your life to the fullest while you have the chance!"

"And I suppose I should listen to your advice on how to best 'live my life to the fullest'?" Castiel said, dryly.

Dean grinned. "Absolutely. I'm _am _a godsend after all."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Yes. Thank the Lord for you."


	27. Untitled 3

Word count: 200-ish

Genre: humour

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Firefighter!Dean maybe saving Librarian!Cas from the library he works at which has caught on fire (bonus points for purgatory parallels).

* * *

_This is it, _he thought, as he reached out to grab onto the man's wrist and haul him onto the lift. _This is the last of them. They're all safe. No one dies today._

But before the tendrils of relief had managed to completely latch onto his heart, the man tore his hand out of Dean's grip, shocking him enough so that he almost fell forward off the lift. Before he realised what he was doing, the man had leaned across the gap between the window and the lift and pushed something into Dean's arms.

"Go, save them! I can't carry them all!"

"What the—"

But the man had already disappeared back into the smoking inferno. Dean blinked against the heat and light of the fire, looking down at his armful of…several books with singed covers.

Before he'd managed to register fully what had happened, the man was climbing out the window of his own accord, manoeuvring himself onto the lift without the help of his hands, since those were occupied with another load of old books. Dean stared at the man's sooty, sweaty face and dishevelled hair, as he coughed slightly and raised his eyebrows at him.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Are we getting out of here or not?"


	28. Room mates

Word count: 700

Genre: humour, AU

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Destiel - High school roommates?

* * *

There is a list on Dean's dorm room. The heading is written in large, red letters - probably some sort of permanent marker? - and reads "READ BEFORE ENTERING". Dean frowns and sets down his lone bag of belongings, tearing the list from the door.

**READ BEFORE ENTERING**

_To whomever has been chosen to house with_  
_me, please memorise the following rules._

_1. Outdoor shoes must be left by the door_

_2. Eating inside the room will not be tolerated_

_3. After having used the cleaning facilities, dry_  
_off properly prior to re-entering the room_

_4. Keep your things neatly organised - this_  
_does not mean to simply keep them on your_  
_side of the room_

_5. The door must always be shut_

_1. No loud noises_

_6. No visitors (this includes other habitants_  
_of the dorm)_

_7. No lights on after ten_

_8. The room is cleaned (by me) once a week._  
_During this day (exact day may be discussed_  
_to fit your schedule)you will have to exit the_  
_room entirely over a time period of at least_  
_five hours_

_9. No devices running on batteries may be_  
_used inside the room. This includes:_

_Cellphones_

_Music players_

_Computers_

_Calculators_

_If you find yourself unable to abide by any_  
_or all of these rules, please speak to the dorm_  
_attendant and have them reassign you._

Dean stared at the paper. Then at the door. Then at the paper. Then, he crumpled the list in his palm, shoving it as far down his pocket as he could, before picking his bag back up and reaching out to open the door…

Which he swings open so hard it bangs into the wall. The boy seated by desk at the far side of the room startles and looks up from his book, a deep frown wrinkling his face as he glares at Dean. Ignoring the murderous gaze, Dean stomped over to the bed at the unoccupied side of the room (not that you could tell which part was unoccupied, seeing as the side where the other boy was sitting was completely free of any kind of personal belongings, the bed made so neatly that it looked like it hadn't been slept in _ever_) and threw his bag onto the bed. He toes his shoes off and left them laying by the bedside.

"Hey, I'm Dean!" he said as a greeting. The other boy's frown had not let up one bit.

"Did you read my list?" he asked in a deep, surprisingly mature voice.

"What list?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The one with my specific rules. It was taped to the door."

Dean shrugged. "There was nothing taped to the door, man. But dude, speaking of rules, what's up with this place, huh? I mean, sure, it's a catholic school and all, so the uniform I'd counted on, but what about the rest of the crap they're forcing us to do? Daily runs? Shouldn't that be up to each person? And what does it matter to them what time I go to bed, seriously? And by _eleven_? I don't need seven hours of sleep, I'm good with four, always have been. What do they think's gonna happen if I don't sleep seven hours; my head will explode in class and they'll get charged with murder or what? I mean, come on, right?"

During Dean's monologue, the boy's frown was retreating, to give way for a look of disbelief, and then horror. He got up from his chair and walked over to the door (Dean noticed he was wearing plaided slippers, _of all things…!_), looking up and down the smooth surface, obviously looking for the note he'd fastened to it. Dean hid a grin. There was no way he'd live by a stupid set of rules set by his anal room mate; this was supposed to be his chance to find out who he was away from his strict dad and overly ambitious mom. He wasn't gonna let anyone ruin it for him.

And if he'd have to teach a catholic schoolboy or two how to really _live _in the process, then so be it. He was up for a challenge.


	29. Superangels

Word count: 575

Genre: humour, AU

Rating: worksafe

Prompt: Destiel, Superhero AU.

* * *

No one knew where they came from, or why they'd decided to reside on earth. But as they seemed to be using their powers only to help the population of each specific city where they lived, most people didn't mind the Angels at all.

Dean was not most people.

"It's freaking annoying is what it is! They're not letting us do our job right!"

Sam didn't even look up from his morning paper as he shrugged.

"Most people are grateful that they're helping us out with the most dangerous situations, you know."

"Well, I'm not!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're just angry because that Castiel guy makes you feel like you're not allowed to be the hero you signed up to be when you picked this job."

Dean grit his teeth. "No, Sam, I'm annoyed as fuck because he keeps showing up at _every site _I'm at. The entire unit is at a loss. We're down to a zero percent death toll over the last half year, but it's no thanks to us. He just keeps showing up _everywhere _and plucks any people _and pets _out of the houses, so that we have to focus on putting out the fires only."

Sam looked up at his brother, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that a good thing…?"

Dean slammed a fist onto the table, causing both his own and Sam's coffee to spill. The waitress at the other side of the diner called out to them, but he ignored her.

"Of course it's not a good thing! I'm a BA firefighter, Sam, and I haven't been inside a burning house for months! I might as well resign my job for all good I'm doing!"

Sam frowned.

"He shows up at all your sites, you said?"

"_Every single one_. No other unit has gotten the Angels' 'help' as much as ours."

"Do you have any idea why?"

"Not a fucking clue. Once he handed over a puppy to me and told me he was glad I was safe. I mean what the _fu—_"

"He told you that?" Sam interrupted, feeling the need to halt Dean's less-than-subtle rant before the waitress came over to throw them out entirely.

"Yeah. What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway, 'keep me safe', Like it's his job to keep me out of trouble or something."

Sam's brows furrowed, and he looked back down at his paper, where a black and white, slightly blurry picture showed the Angel Castiel in the middle of helping a woman and her child out of a nearly-collapsed building.

"Maybe he likes you," he said, thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Castiel," Sam specified, lookign at Dean. "Maybe he keeps showing up at your sites because he likes you. Fighting to keep you safe, for himself…"

Dean blinked.

"Sam," he said.

Sam grinned.

"Sam, no."

Sam only continued to grin.

"Fuck that, Sam, you're not turning this into some kind of messed up _chick flick theory _to write about in your freaking girly piece of crap magazine."

Sam grinned even wider. "Oh, I can see it now, the lonely soul of the Angel Castiel, reaching out to the one human that caught his attention, fighting to keep him safe in a dangerous world until the right time comes for him to admit his feelings and sweep his chosen one off his feet, fly off into the sunset together—"

"You're not _turning me into Luois Lane, _do you hear me?!_"_


	30. House of the Holy Cakes

Word count: 277

Genre: romance, AU

Rating: worksafe-ish...?

Prompt: Sabriel, coffee shop AU

* * *

Sam can't deny that House of the Holy Cakes, as tacky as the name is and as eccentric as the owner is, makes the best caramel double espresso latte in the whole city. And Sam should know. So he keeps coming back there to study.

Until finally, one day, the owner himself comes to his table, setting down his latte together with a piece of cherry pie Sam didn't order on the table, and setting himself down on the seat opposite Sam's.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

The man smiled crookedly.

"Now, you've been coming into my shop often enough the past few weeks that I'm beginning to feel a bit awkward not knowing your name."

"Why is that awkward?" Sam asked. "I'm just another customer, right?"

That earns him a wider smile and a _tssk_:ing sound.

"Oh, you are anything but 'just another customer'. But," the guy continued before Sam could ask him what he meant by that, "that's for another time. First of all I just want to know what to call you so I don't have to keep telling the waitresses to bring your coffee to 'tall, dark and handsome'. As accurate as it may be."

Sam prayed he managed not to blush, but seeing the owner's eyebrows waggled suggestively made him think he didn't quite succeed.

"It's Sam," Sam said. "But then I want to know what I should call you… unless you want me to stick with 'weird but cute coffee-guy'".

"Weird but cute, huh?"

Now Sam was definitely feeling the beginnings of a blush spread across his cheeks. But the owner only smiled wider.

"Maybe I want you to stick with that."


	31. Third Wheel

Word count: 900

Genre: romance, AU

Rating: worksafe-ish

Prompt: dean and cas and sam (deancas or wincestiel your choice) ; idk college au

* * *

Sam was pretty sure that Dean would love his History professor. First of all, he was really young for a professor, probably a bit too old for Sam to be thinking the kind of thoughts he found himself falling into during the man's lectures, but the perfect age for Dean. Second of all, he was gorgeous enough to turn the heads of every single person in the school as he walked by.

Somehow, the thought didn't make him feel anything like he'd expected; usually he dealt with Dean's "conquests" by ignoring them; he knew none of the girls (and occasional guy) would keep Dean away from him permanently. Dean and him, they were different. Maybe that was really messed up (Sam figured it probably was), but he didn't care as long as they were both happy.

And seeing as he liked seeing Dean happy, he figured he should introduce him to his professor. Just to see where things went, right?

Step one of the plan: make sure Castiel was more than his professor by the time Dean came around to visit him again.

Sam worked hard on step one for several weeks from the start of the term until the week before Thanksgiving. Castiel was resistant at first, not wanting to spend too much time with a student. Even if the regulations at college wasn't as strictly against teacher-student relationships as high schools (the students were, in this case, legal after all), the faculty frowned upon teachers becoming too close with students from their own classes, seeing as that may give them an unfair advantage.

But Sam was nothing if not stubborn. After having been shot down twice, he finally managed to persuade Castiel to have coffee with him outside school hours. A few weeks later, they'd been to four movies and had dinner together twice, and Sam had managed to get Castiel to promise to come have Thanksgiving dinner with him and Dean. Naturally, he hadn't told Castiel who Dean actually was to him; he rarely relaid their relation to his classmates at Stanford, preferring to let them believe what they wished one they saw the two of them together.

Most of them got it right in one way or another either way.

Sadly, Castiel drew a few more conclusions as well.

He pushed the door to Sam's apartment open in a flurry of tan coat and rage, turning around outside only to push a finger into Sam's face, glaring up at him.

"I don't know what game you and your… _whatever he is _are playing here, Sam, but I can tell you that I am not interested in being toyed with," he growled, eyes narrowed and intense.

"Dude, no, that's not it!" Sam assured him. "I'm not playing any games, I really just wanted to introduce you to my brother—"

"Your _brother?_"

"—yes, my _brother;_ I thought the two of you would really like one another. And you would, Castiel, couldn't you tell?"

Castiel lowered his hand, and as the anger dissipated, wariness and hurt took its place.

"Sam," he said. "Sam. I already have someone I like."

"Oh." Sam's face fell. "I'm really sorry, I didn't know. I thought that since we've been spending so much time together—"

"Precisely. I've been spending time with _you, _Sam. It's _you _I want."

"Well then you're in luck."

Sam and Cas both turned towards the sound of Dean's voice, finding that he was watching them from the door.

"Excuse me?" Castiel asked uncertainly.

Dean pushed off the door frame, taking a few steps towards the two of them. His entire posture spoke of unwavering confidence and not for the first time, Sam got lost somewhere between the desire of _being _Dean and wiping that smug look off his face with a kiss.

"You see," Dean said as he came to stand at Sam's side, "me n' Sam here, we're kind of an, hm, two-for-one deal, in the long run. Not that we've ever tried anything more permanent with anyone but each other, but I have a feeling the three of us could become pretty good friends. Or what do you say, Sammy?"

Unable to find his voice, Sam nodded. This wasn't anything they'd ever done before; their entire relationship was built around the ability to keep it all under wraps, hardly even talking about what they meant to each other _with each other. _The thought that he'd be able to not only keep his brother the way he'd always had him, continue the budding relationship with Castiel, and yet be able to see Dean happy with someone who was actually good enough for him for once was more than Sam had ever hoped for.

His nod came to a halt as he saw the strange look on Castiel's face as he regarded both brothers.

"Cas?" Dean asked slowly. "You okay there, buddy? Need a moment? Or a day? We could get in touch again tomorrow if you wanna sleep on it?"

Castiel cleared his throat.

"Maybe—" he begun, voice even lower than it'd been a moment ago, and that was saying something, seeing as Castiel's voice was always pretty damn deep. "Maybe we should continue this inside."

Sam was already dragging both the other men by the wrists back into his apartment by the time he'd stopped talking.


	32. Rumours

Word count: 300

Genre: romance, drama AU

Rating: worksafe-ish

Prompt: Destiel Prince/servant =)

* * *

"This is very unseemly, Dean, you must understand that."

Dean didn't dare to look up to meet his father's eyes. He knew what he'd seen there, and it was nothing he currently cared for. What he cared about what that his father only knew about his son, his heir, being infatuated with a servant at the castle. That he didn't find out about who the servant in question actually was. And _especially _that he didn't find out that it was, in fact, Dean's personal manservant.

The reason Dean didn't want his father to find out wasn't that he'd be shamed. It wasn't because he'd lose all opportunities to mess around with Castiel in the privacy of his own quarters, at any time of the day. It wasn't even because his father might take it out on Castiel, punishing him for his son's affections.

No, it wasn't for all of those reasons.

It was because if him and Castiel were found out, and Castiel inevitably was sent away, Dean would have no other choice but to go with him. To leave the kingdom. To forsake his future throne. And if he did, his father's heart would be crushed. He didn't want to disappoint his father further.

So lying was really his only choice.

"I understand, Dad. It was nothing serious. I'll stop seeing her now."

King John nodded in approval. "That is good. Now, go wash up before dinner, we're having the ambassador of Fridhem for dinner; I can't have you smelling of horses and forests at a formal gathering."

Dean only just hid a grin at the thought of Castiel waiting for him in his room with a bath drawn.

"Absolutely. I'll be right on that."


	33. On Demons

Word count: 300

Genre: gen

Rating: worksafe

Note: Just a little something I thought about...

* * *

"Wow, you are one ugly son of a bitch," Dean states as the demon walks into the room.

Castiel is taken aback for a moment, and turns to look at the man beside him. Is Dean able to see the true form of the demon, hiding behind the flesh of its Human host, all of a sudden? Only angels, and humans close to falling into the Pit should be able to see them, and he feels a wave of fear crash into him. Has Dean gone and done something stupid without telling him? (Again?) But then he realizes; Dean is not talking about the twisted darkness beneath the surface; he is talking about the vessel. Castiel turns back to their enemy, eyes narrowing as he regards it again. He supposes Dean is right; over the years that he has spent with the Winchesters he has learned to perceive the characteristics that make each human unique, instead of simply a mirror image of their heavenly Father. And he supposes one can say that this vessel isn't one of the more attractive ones.

He has also noticed, to his confusion, that people have a tendency to trust an attractive individual easier than someone with non-desirable features. It has something to do with symmetry and order, he believes… That might be the reason why most demons tend to chose beautiful people to possess.

This knowledge also makes Castiel wish again that Dean could be able to view him in his true form; he knows himself to be much more beautiful to Human eyes that way. Perhaps, if Dean had been able to perceive him as he really is, he would find it easier to trust Castiel, as well. That would certainly have made things easier for them both.


End file.
